poem
Not the fusillade of words that pierce the veins,Though aching and beating that may remain.Not a creaseless corner…
Sleep escapes while thoughts lie more tangled than a 100 thread-count sheet.Satisfaction falls shorter…
I was once a man full of inspirationbut somehow all of that has fallen into degradation
Struggling
Serendipitous timing and a clean slate never seemed all that likely.
I might have taken suns from the sky,Delivered stars instead of stones,Drank wine —…
This ocean that divides us,the crashing waves that sink this shipleaving us broken and on the brinkleft to brave this restless sea.